


Original Sin

by Brenda



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Bucky & Steve Need All The Hugs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Drug Use, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-19 00:56:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4726727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/pseuds/Brenda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He was a patchwork of broken pieces, shattered, and shattering still, none of them fitting together the right way.  But, with Bucky back in his arms, he felt like maybe he could start to stitch himself into something that resembled a person.</i>
</p><p>Or: A year ago, Steve had walked away from Bucky to save himself and his sanity, but both were overrated.  Not when the price was a lifetime without the only person who'd ever made him feel complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Original Sin

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Tower Party Hurt/Comfort flash round. My prompt was: _"If there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes"_.

Steve could hear the pounding beat of the house music about a block before he got to the club. He wasn't much of a partier these days – had lost his stomach for it years before – but he remembered college and the time right after well enough. Remembered way too many late nights with Bucky that had bled into early mornings. Remembered coming home covered in sweat, clothes plastered to his body, Bucky plastered to his side. 

And this place – smoke-filled, dimly lit, where the bartenders poured generously, and finding someone willing to get you high was just a smile and a nod away – was definitely Bucky's speed. Steve couldn't make out the song the DJ was spinning, but he didn't think it mattered to the crowd swaying and twisting to the throbbing of the bass booming from the wall-high speaker system. This time of night, no one cared as long as the beat didn't stop.

He made his way to the dance floor – thankful his bulk made it a little easier for him to push through the mass of writhing bodies – and texted Natasha to let her know he'd arrived. He got the return text that Bucky had disappeared into the men's room a couple of minutes ago with some guy he'd met at the bar. Typical. Bucky got his ass into trouble and here Steve was, _again_ , hauling him out of it. The times may have changed, but their pattern never had.

But, _fuck_ , Steve was so sick of this. Of chasing Bucky down all over creation, of rescuing him from his own self-destructive ways. Of pulling him out of strange beds and grimy bathroom stalls and seedy flop houses, and taking him home, bathing the come and vomit and stench of other men, other women, off of him. Of getting him sober and fed and cleaned up, only to watch helplessly as Bucky slunk away like a thief the second Steve's back was turned.

He swore a year ago – the last time he'd been here, done this, played bodyguard and nurse and caretaker – that he was done, he was finished; he couldn't do this to himself again. And he had stuck to his word, ignoring Bucky's numerous texts and calls and emails, until they'd trickled, then died off completely.

He'd foolishly thought he was over the destructive need to swoop in and rescue Bucky, like Bucky was some fucking old-fashioned damsel in distress. Until the text tonight from Natasha had proven him a liar, even to himself.

The bathrooms were unisex and single-stalled, which made things easier. Not as many places for Bucky to hide. The doors also didn't have locks, which wasn't all that surprising either. In a place like this, privacy didn't mean jack. No one cared if you were getting fucked or fucked up, just as long as you weren't blocking the toilet.

Once, in another life, he and Bucky used to take perverse delight in sucking each other off and jerking each other off in places like this – in the appreciative voyeurs who'd given words of encouragement or admiration. In the thrill of performing for anyone who happened to pass by, in driving each other right to the edge, then stopping, saving themselves for when they were at home alone. How the sex had been _that_ much better, knowing they'd given others just a small glimpse of what things were like. Letting envious strangers peek behind the curtain at how well he and Bucky fit together, how _good_ things were between them. But those days were long over, and the memories tasted like ash on Steve's tongue. 

He took a breath to brace himself for the inevitable, and banged the bathroom door open.

It wasn't quite as bad as he'd thought. Bucky was there, alright, but he wasn't bent over the sink with some stranger's dick in his ass, he wasn't on his knees and, more importantly, there was no needle or kit anywhere near him. Hell, he and the dude he was with were even still mostly dressed. Yeah, sure, Bucky had a hand firmly down the other man's painted-on jeans, but Steve had walked in on so much worse.

Guy (didn't matter what his name actually was - Steve had stopped caring a long time ago, had named them all Guy in his head) jumped about a mile when Steve tapped him, none-too-gently, on the shoulder. 

"Beat it," Steve told him, but didn't – couldn't – look away from Bucky, drinking him in like a man dying of thirst. Bucky, who'd tensed the moment he saw Steve, but had hidden it almost instantly behind a brittle mask. Bucky, who still looked – 

_No._

He wasn't going to do this to himself. He was going to get out of this with minimal damage if it fucking killed him.

"Hey, man, we're a little busy here," Guy said, and turned his back to Steve. "Can's that way if you're desperate."

Bucky sighed and dropped his forehead to Guy's shoulder. "Steve, your timing fucking sucks," he groaned, but there was no tell-tale slur to it, no drawling hitch that meant he was using. "And not in the good way." 

"Not in the mood, Buck." 

"When are you ever."

Steve clamped down on Guy's shoulder -- harder this time, grinding his fingers against bone. "What part of get the fuck out are you _not_ getting?"

Guy turned, fist raised, telegraphing intent from a hundred miles away. Steve easily knocked it aside, planted his feet and drew his shoulders back. Kept his hands deliberately relaxed against his sides. "Normally, I'd be happy to go a few rounds, but right now, you're just in my way."

"Fuck you, buddy," Guy started, but Steve was done with the posturing and the bullshit.

"Not your buddy. And you're not my problem. In fact, I don't give a good goddamn _what_ you do as long as you're not doing it with _him_." Steve stabbed a finger in Bucky's direction, but kept his gaze on Guy's, hard and implacable. "He's off-limits. Understood?"

After a long, fraught moment of silence, Guy finally got with the fucking program. He yanked at his jeans and gave Bucky a furious, wounded glare. "You didn't mention you had a fucking _psycho_ boyfriend."

Bucky rolled back against the wall, and gave Steve a very familiar, fuck you smirk. His lips were reddened and bruised and his cheeks were flushed to hell, but his eyes were clear. Clear and flashing with anger and challenge and something Steve wasn't in the mood to decipher. 

"Nah, _Stevie_ here hasn't been that in a long time, isn't that right, sweetheart," Bucky drawled, twisting the knife in Steve's gut that much deeper. A wound he _knew_ would leave yet another scar, another tangible reminder of how little was left between them. "He's more my conscience these days."

His eyes glinted like hardened steel when he went in for the killing blow. "That's ten times worse than a boyfriend." 

"Fuck you," Steve said, proud of the mildness of his tone. He wouldn't give Bucky the satisfaction of recoiling. He was way too tired to deal with this, and way too tired to strike back the way he knew Bucky expected. He had no desire to set fire to the smoldering ruins between them.

He waited until Guy beat a hasty retreat, then stepped into Bucky's space, let his gaze roam, despite himself. Bucky smelled of rum and aftershave – something exotic and expensive. His black jeans were molded to his thighs, and his threadbare, black v-neck was at least a size too small, showing off a body still in superb shape, even after everything he'd done to try and destroy it.

 _Slutting clothes_ , Bucky used to joke back in the good days. Back when Steve used to reel Bucky into his arms, slide his hands under those thin shirts to map firm, warm skin, and joke that he didn't care what Bucky showed to the world as long as he went home with Steve at the end of the night. Back when going out used to mean tequila-flavored kisses and grinding against each other all filthy-hot on the dance floor. Back when Bucky, vibrant and happy and high on life and love and nothing else, would fall in Steve's arms, breath hot and heavy in his ear as he told Steve all the things he wanted him to do when they got home.

Back when home had meant more than just a place to sleep. Before the accident and the guilt and the downward spiral of drugs and never-ending lies and broken promises and rehab and the entire cycle starting over again, ad nauseum, until Steve had finally tapped out and wrested some measure of control back over his own life.

"You on anything?" he asked, grabbing Bucky's hands without another word, looking for any sign of incriminating needle pricks between the webbing of his fingers.

Bucky huffed out a sigh, but didn't pull his hands away. "Do blue balls count?"

Steve stepped closer, prodded at Bucky's chest. "I'm fucking serious right now."

Bucky knocked his hand away, poked his own finger at Steve. "So am I. The guy was hot. And pretty hung." His eyes dropped to Steve's crotch, lingered for an uncomfortable beat. "Not like you, of course, but you're off the market these days, so I hear."

Steve flinched, but stood his ground. "Natasha said when she saw you earlier, she thought you were high."

"Well, fuck Nat. She doesn't know everything." Bucky stuck both arms out for inspection. The right was clean and smooth, and the left still a patchwork of old, faded scars. Scars Steve knew as intimately as he knew himself. 

"I'm clean," Bucky spat out, voice rough and pained. "Coming up on a goddamn _year_ now, but you wouldn't know anything about that, because you haven't _been_ here. I bet it doesn't matter to you, does it. That I'm making it stick, making it work, trying –" He paused, chest heaving, the pulse at his throat hummingbird fast. "Jesus fucking Christ, you have _no_ idea how hard I'm trying. You're never gonna let me forget and you're never gonna let me move the fuck _on_."

"Move on?" Steve jabbed a finger in the direction of the door. "Is that what you call what you were just doing? Screwing random assholes in bathroom stalls in seedy goddamn nightclubs is _moving on_? I should, what, throw you a fucking party or give you some sort of medal? Really? Is that what you want?"

"What _I_ want?" Bucky sucked in a breath, then laughed, the sound ugly and raw. "This is such a fucking joke. How about you? What do you want from me? Huh? Just tell me." His eyeliner was smudged, made his eyes seem larger, even bluer than normal. "I've tried everything I could, done everything you asked, and this...it's not enough. _I'm_ not enough." His voice choked, caught. The next words were practically whispered. "Was I ever enough for you, after the accident? Or did you just stay with me out of obligation?"

All of Steve's anger bled out of him in one sharp exhale. The tight ball of terror in his gut – that he'd be too late again, that he wouldn't be able to pull Bucky out this time – unknotted itself at the look in Bucky's eyes. "Buck," he murmured, cupped Bucky's face in his hands, thumbs gliding over those slick, full lips. Lips he knew by touch, by taste, by heart. " _Bucky._ "

Bucky shuddered against him, breath hot against Steve's fingers, chest hot against his own. "Tell me what you want," he pleaded. "I'll do anything, I'll be anyone, I'll give you anything –"

He couldn't listen to any more of this. Couldn't listen to another word of Bucky falling apart in front of him, his body far too close and tempting. Couldn't keep looking at blue eyes pleading for forgiveness, a forgiveness he neither wanted nor deserved. 

Steve swallowed Bucky's words, pushed his tongue past Bucky's teeth, and his knees practically buckled at how _right_ this felt. Like he was finally breathing oxygen for the first time in over a year. Bucky made a wounded noise – the sound shattering what was left of Steve's restraint – and pulled Steve flush against him. His lips were still soft and lush, yet the kiss was anything but. It was all sliding tongues and harsh breaths, and both of them hanging onto each other tight enough to leave bruises.

"I'm sorry, Steve, I'm sorry," Bucky murmured, frantic and aching. "I'm sorry, so sorry, so..." Whispered between every kiss, each one more desperate than the last. Steve could taste the salt of his tears, and pulled him even closer. Wanted to crawl inside Bucky so far nothing could ever separate them again. 

He was every bit the addict Bucky was, his craving just as palpable and all-encompassing and destructive.

"Shhh, it's okay, I'm here, Bucky, I'm right here," he crooned, and angled his head to slow the kiss down, urgency morphing to need and want and _I've missed you, I love you, I've got you_ , with every new meeting of their lips. It had been so long – so _fucking long_ – and every part of Steve's body sang in recognition at finally having Bucky back where he belonged.

Bucky pressed their foreheads together, nails digging into the small of Steve's back. "Tell me what you need." His voice was so low Steve had to strain to hear him, even as close together as they were. "I can't do this again. Can't lose you again, Steve, I won't –"

"I know, I'm sorry, I didn't..." Steve pulled back enough so his gaze could rake over those wide blue eyes and kiss-slick lips. "It wasn't you, it was me, alright. I couldn't – I _couldn't_ stand back and watch you – couldn't bear it, it was killing me –"

"I swear to you, I'm clean. I'll take any tests you want, swear on a stack of Bibles, take you to every meeting, Steve, please, you gotta..." Bucky swallowed, let out a trembling breath. "I'll go to my knees right now and beg, crawl on the floor, whatever you want, if that's what it takes."

Steve had no doubts Bucky was dead serious, but he wouldn't survive it if Bucky so much as moved. "I want to believe you, Buck." 

He wanted it with every fiber of his being. The last few years had been the longest and worst of his life, had ripped him apart in so many ways both external and internal. He was a patchwork of broken pieces, shattered, and shattering still, none of them fitting together the right way. But, with Bucky back in his arms, he felt like maybe he could start to stitch himself back into something that resembled a person.

"Then _believe me_ ," Bucky said, and nuzzled at Steve's jaw. His lips were the best sort of sin, still knew how to exploit Steve's body with every slide. Lips Steve still burned for with a desperate longing, would go to his grave craving their taste. "Give me another chance. Please."

Déjà vu all over again, and just like everything where Bucky was concerned, Steve was powerless to resist. He really _was_ just as much of a junkie as Bucky was, and the worst part was, he knew it. Knew it and still walked willingly into the flames – willingly laid himself on the tracks time and time again. Maybe this was insanity, maybe this was the worst sort of stupidity, and maybe he was setting himself up for heartbreak all over again.

But when he looked into Bucky's eyes, he couldn't find it in himself to care. If this was his end, he'd meet it head on and with his eyes wide fucking open.

"Okay," he answered – surrendered to the inevitable, damned himself with a clear mind and arms stretched wide. "Let's go home."

***

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Stephrc79](http://stephrc79.tumblr.com/) for the beta!
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr](http://brendaonao3.tumblr.com/). :)


End file.
